Sunday, December 20, 2009

At the height of its power, the great Roman Empire stretched from the deserts of Africa to the borders of northern England. Over one quarter of the world’s population lived and died under the rule of the Caesars.*

In the winter of A.D.† 180, Emperor Marcus Aurelius’s twelve-year war against the people of Germania was coming to an end. There was one last battle to win. Then there would be peace across the Roman Empire.

The man walked through the sun-warmed Spanish field, his hand touching the wheat. He looked past apple trees to a farmhouse. He heard a child laughing somewhere near. A bird flew onto the branch of a tree close to him and they looked at each other. The man smiled.

Suddenly, the sound of shouts and horses frightened the bird and it flew up into the air. The noise broke through the man’s daydream and he came back to the real world with a crash. He was not dressed in farmer’s clothes, as he had imagined, but in the proud armor of the Roman army. The field was burnt and muddy from battle, without a green leaf on it.

Beyond the tree line ahead, somewhere in the forest, the German armies were preparing to attack again. The man knew that behind him an enormous army waited. The Roman army, 40,000 men, his army. Maximus the farmer was Maximus the Commanding General of the Army of the North for one more battle. One last battle, and then he could go home to Spain.

He turned his horse and rode back to his men. Thirty-year-old Maximus was a great general—a man they could trust. He moved among them, checking that they were ready for battle. He looked back frequently to the line of trees.

Some of his officers were warming themselves around a fire, and Maximus joined them.

“Still nothing?” he asked Quintus, his second-in-command.
Quintus shook his head. “He’s been gone for almost two hours,” he said. “Why are they taking so long? They only have to say yes or no.”

A young officer gave Maximus a bowl of hot soup. He drank it slowly as they talked, always keeping one eye on the line of trees.

“Snow in the air,” said Maximus. “I can smell it.”
“Anything’s better than this German rain,” Quintus said, looking out at the mud in front of his men.

Suddenly, there was a shout. “He’s coming!”

All eyes turned to the trees. A horseman rode out, toward the Roman army. There was something strange about the way he was riding. Maximus was the first to understand.

“They say no,” he said.
As the horse came closer, the other men could see what had happened. The Roman messenger was tied to his horse. His head had been cut off. Maximus knew now what he had to do. Life was suddenly simple.

Far away, at the edge of the trees, a German chief appeared. In one hand he was holding the head of the messenger. He screamed his anger at the Roman army, then threw the head toward them.

Maximus’s men stared back and waited for their general’s order to attack.
Several carriages traveled along the road toward the battle area, protected by Roman soldiers. Inside the first carriage were the royal family—the Emperor’s son and daughter. Twenty-eight-year-old Commodus and his beautiful older sister Lucilla were dressed in rich, warm clothes. They had left Rome two weeks before.

“I think he’s really sick this time. And he’s sent for us.” He pointed to the following carriages. “He sent for the senators, too. If he isn’t dying, why does he want to see them?”

“Commodus, you’re giving me a headache. Two weeks on the road with you is more than enough,” said Lucilla, impatiently.
Commodus moved closer to her. “No, he’s made his decision,” he said. “He will name me as Emperor. And I know what I shall do first. I shall organize some games . . .”

“I shall have a hot bath,” said Lucilla.
The carriage stopped. Commodus stepped down and spoke to one of the guards.

Under his warm traveling coat Commodus was wearing Roman armor. He looked handsome and brave, the perfect picture of a new, young emperor. The guard brought Commodus his horse.
“Take me to my father. And take my sister to the camp.”
Commodus reached out a hand to Lucilla. “Kiss,” he said, smiling like a little boy.

Friday, December 11, 2009

'Of course,' the man in the brown hat said, 'there are good policemen and there are bad policemen, you know.'

'You're right,' the young man said. 'Yes. That's very true. Isn't it, Julie?' He looked at the young woman next to him. Julie didn't answer and looked bored. She closed her eyes.

'Julie's my wife,' the young man told the man in the brown hat. 'She doesn't like trains. She always feels ill on trains.'

'Oh yes?' the man in the brown hat said. 'Now my wife - she doesn't like buses. She nearly had an accident on a bus once. It was last year. No, no, it wasn't. It was two years ago. I remember now. It was in Manchester.' He told a long, boring story about his wife and a bus in Manchester.

It was a hot day and the train was slow. There were seven people in the carriage. There was the man in the brown hat; the young man and his wife, Julie; a mother and two children; and a tall dark man in an expensive suit.

The young man's name was Bill. He had short brown hair and a happy smile. His wife, Julie, had long red hair and very green eyes - the color of sea water. They were very beautiful eyes.

The man in the brown hat talked and talked. He had a big red face and a loud voice. He talked to Bill because Bill liked to talk too. The man in the brown hat laughed a lot, and when he laughed, Bill laughed too. Bill liked talking and laughing with people.

The two children were hot and bored. They didn't want to sit down. They wanted to be noisy and run up and down the train.

'Now sit down and be quiet,' their mother said. She was a small woman with a tired face and a tired voice.

'I don't want to sit down,' the little boy said. 'I'm thirsty.''Here. Have an orange,' his mother said. She took an orange out of her bag and gave it to him.'I want an orange, too,’ the little girl said loudly.'All right. Here you are,' said her mother. 'Eat it nicely, now.'The children ate their oranges and were quiet for a minute.

Then the little boy said, 'I want a drink. I'm thirsty.'The tall dark man took out his newspaper and began to read. Julie opened her eyes and looked at the back page of his newspaper. She read about the weather in Budapest and about the football in Liverpool. She wasn't interested in Budapest and she didn't like football, but she didn't want to listen to Bill and the man in the brown hat. 'Talk, talk, talk,' she thought. 'Bill never stops talking.'

Then suddenly she saw the tall man's eyes over the top of his newspaper. She could not see his mouth, but there was a smile in his eyes. Quickly, she looked down at the newspaper and read about the weather in Budapest again.

The train stopped at Dawlish station and people got on and got off. There was a lot of noise.'Is this our station?' the little girl asked. She went to the window and looked out.'No, it isn't. Now sit down,' her mother said.

'Yes,' the man in the brown hat said. 'It's a nice town.I know a man there. He's got a restaurant in King Street. A lot of holiday people go there. He makes a lot of money in the summer.' He laughed loudly. 'Yes,' he said again.

'You can have a nice holiday in Penzance.''We're going to St Austell,' Bill. said. 'Me and Julie. It's our first holiday. Julie wanted to go to Spain, but I like St Austell. I always go there for my holidays. It's nice in August. You can have a good time there too.'

Julie looked out of the window. 'Where is Budapest?' she thought. 'I want to go there. I want to go to Vienna, to Paris, to Rome, to Athens.' Her green eyes were bored and angry. Through the window she watched the little villages and hills of England.

The man in the brown hat looked at Julie. 'You're right,' he said to Bill. 'You can have a good time on holiday in England. We always go to Brighton, me and the wife. But the weather! We went one year, and it rained every day, morning, afternoon, and night. It's true. It never stopped raining.' He laughed loudly. 'We nearly went home after the first week.'

Bill laughed too. 'What did you do all day, then?' he asked.Julie read about the weather in Budapest for the third time. Then she looked at the tall man's hands. They were long, brown hands, very clean. 'Nice hands,' she thought.

He wore a very expensive Japanese watch. 'Japan,' she thought. 'I'd like to go to Japan.' She looked up and saw the man's eyes again over the top of his newspaper. This time she did not look away. Green eyes looked into dark brown eyes for a long, slow minute.

After Newton Abbot Station the guard came into the carriage to look at their tickets. 'Now then,' he said, 'where are we all going?''This train's late,' the man in the brown hat said. 'Twenty minutes late, by my watch.''Ten minutes,' the guard said. 'That's all.' He smiled at Julie.The tall dark man put his newspaper down, found his ticket, and gave it to the guard. The guard looked at it.

The tall man smiled, put his ticket back in his pocket and opened his newspaper again.Julie didn't look at him. 'A boat,' she thought. 'He's taking a boat from Plymouth. Where's he going?' She looked at him again with her long green eyes. He read his newspaper and didn't look at her. But his eyes smiled.

The train stopped at Totnes station and more people got on and off.'Everybody's going on holiday,' Bill said. He laughed.'It's going to be wonderful. No work for two weeks. It's a nice, quiet town, St Austell. We can stay in bed in the mornings, and sit and talk in the afternoons, and have a drink or two in the evenings. Eh, Julie?' He looked at his wife. 'Are you all right, Julie?'

'Yes, Bill,' she said quietly. 'I'm OK.' She looked out of the window again. The train went more quickly now, and it began to rain. Bill and the man in the brown hat talked and talked. Bill told a long story about two men and a dog, and the man in the brown hat laughed very loudly.

'That's a good story,' he said. 'I like that. You tell it very well. Do you know the story about .' And he told Bill a story about a Frenchman and a bicycle.

'Why do people laugh at these stories?' Julie thought. 'They're so boring!'But Bill liked it. Then he told a story about an old woman and a cat, and the man in the brown hat laughed again. 'That's good, too. I don't know. How do you remember them all?''Because', Julie thought, 'he tells them every day.'

'I don't understand,' the little girl said suddenly. She looked at Bill. 'Why did the cat die?''Shhh. Be quiet,' her mother said. 'Come and eat your sandwiches now.'T hat ' s all right,' Bill said. 'I like children.'The man in the brown hat looked at the children's sandwiches. 'Mmm, I'm hungry, too,' he said. 'You can get sandwiches in the restaurant on this train.' He looked at Bill.

'Let's go down to the restaurant, eh? I need a drink too.'Bill laughed. 'You're right. It's thirsty work, telling stories.'The two men stood up and left the carriage.The little girl ate her sandwich and looked at Julie. 'But why did the cat die?' she asked.'I don't know,' Julie said. 'Perhaps it wanted to die.'

The little girl came and sat next to Julie. 'I like your hair,' she said. 'It's beautiful.' Julie looked down at her and smiled. For some minutes it was quiet in the carriage. Then the tall dark man opened his bag and took out a book. He put it on the seat next to him, and looked at Julie with a smile.Julie looked back at him, and then down at the book. Famous towns of Italy, she read. Venice, Florence, Rome, Naples. She looked away again, out of the window at the rain. Two weeks in St Austell,' she thought. 'With Bill in the rain.'

After half an hour the two men came back to the carriage. 'There are a lot of people on this train,' Bill said.'Do you want a sandwich, Julie?''No,' she said. 'I'm not hungry. You eat them.'The train was nearly at Plymouth. Doors opened and people began to move. 'A lot of people get on here,' the man in the brown hat said.The tall dark man stood up and put his book and his newspaper in his bag. Then he picked up his bag and left the carriage. The train stopped at the station. A lot of people got on the train, and two women and an old man came into the carriage. They had a lot of bags with them.Bill and the man in the brown hat stood up and helped them. One of the women had a big bag of apples. The bag broke and the apples went all over the carriage.

'Oh damn!' she said.Everybody laughed, and helped her to find the apples.The train moved away from Plymouth station. After a minute or two everybody sat down and the woman gave some apples to the children.

'Where's Julie?' Bill said suddenly. 'She's not here.''Perhaps she went to the restaurant,' the man in the brown hat said.'But she wasn't hungry,' Bill said. 'She told me.'The little girl looked at Bill. 'She got off the train at Plymouth,' she said. 'With the tall dark man. I saw them.''Of course she didn't!' Bill said. 'She's on this train. She didn't get off.''Yes, she did,' the children's mother said suddenly. 'I saw her too. The tall man waited for her on the platform.'

'He waited for her?' Bill's mouth was open. ' But…but he read his newspaper all the time. He didn't talk to Julie. And she never talked to him. They didn't say a word.''People don't always need words, young man,' the children's mother said.'But she's my wife!' Bill's face was red and angry. 'She can't do that!' he said loudly. He stood up. 'I'm going to stop the train,' Everybody looked at him and the two children laughed.'No,' the man in the brown hat said, 'no, you don't want to do that. Sit down and eat your sandwiches, my friend.'

'But I don't understand. Why did she go? What am I going to do?' Bill's face was very unhappy. After a second or two he sat down again. 'What am I going to do?' he said again.

'Nothing,' the man in the brown hat said. He ate his sandwich slowly. 'Go and have your holiday in St Austell. You can have a good time there. Forget about Julie. Those green eyes, now.' He took out a second sandwich and began to eat it. 'I knew a woman once with green eyes. She gave me a very bad time. No, you want to forget about Julie.'

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

It was Mr. Bean's birthday, and he wanted to enjoy it! What could he do?
'How can I make this important day a happy day?' he thought. 'I know. I'll
go out to a restaurant for dinner this evening! I'll enjoy that.'

Mr. Bean didn't often eat in restaurants. They were sometimes very expensive. And he sometimes did things wrong when he was in a new or strange place.

Oh dear! Life wasn't easy for Mr. Bean!

That evening, Mr. Bean put on a clean shirt. He put on his best coat and trousers. He put on his best shoes. Then he drove to a restaurant in the center of town.

He arrived at eight o'clock and went inside. It was a very nice restaurant.
Everybody was wearing their best clothes, and there were flowers on every table.

'I'm going to like it here,' thought Mr. Bean. 'This is a good restaurant for
my birthday dinner.'

The manager met him at the door.

'Good evening, sir,' he said. 'How are you? Would you like a table for one?'

'Yes, please,' said Mr. Bean.

'Follow me, sir,' said the manager.

He walked across the room to a table, and Mr. Bean went after him.
'Here you are, sir,' said the manager. 'This is a nice table.'

He pulled the chair away from the table. Then he waited for Mr. Bean to sit down. Mr. Bean looked at him.

And he pulled the chair away from the manager and sat down quickly. When the manager went away, Mr. Bean sat quietly for a minute. Then he remembered something. He took a birthday card and an envelope out of his jacket. Next, he took out a pen and wrote 'Happy Birthday, Bean' inside the card. Then he put the card into the envelope and wrote his name on the outside of it. He put it on the table, and put his pen back into his jacket.

After a minute or two, Mr. Bean pretended to see the card for the first time.

'Oh! A card - for me?' he said.

He opened the envelope and took out the card. He read it carefully.

'Now that's nice!' he said. 'Somebody remembered my birthday!'

And he stood the card on his table.

The manager arrived with the menu and gave it to Mr. Bean. Mr. Bean
started to read it.

'Oh, dear!' he thought. 'Everything's very expensive! What can I have?'
Mr. Bean got out his money. He had a ten-pound note and some coins. He put the money on to a plate.

'How much have I got?' he said, and he moved the money round on the plate.

He looked at the menu again. What could he eat for eleven pounds fifty-five?

The manager came to his table.

'Are you ready, sir?' he asked.

'Yes,' said Mr. Bean. He put his finger on the menu. 'I'll have that, please.'

The manager looked at the menu. 'The steak tartare, sir. Yes, of course.'

'Yes,' said Mr. Bean. 'Steak.'

The manager took the menu and went away. Mr. Bean sat and looked round the restaurant. There were a lot of people in the room. There was a man and a woman at the next table. They ate and talked.

Suddenly, a waiter arrived at Mr. Bean's table with a bottle of wine.

'Would you like to try the wine, sir?' he said.

'Oh, yes please,' said Mr. Bean.

The waiter put some wine in Mr. Bean's glass and Mr. Bean had a drink. It
was very nice! He smiled, and the waiter tried to put more wine into the glass.

Of course, the waiter was right. First, the customer tries his wine. When he
is happy with it, the waiter gives him more wine. But Mr. Bean didn't know this, and he quickly put his hand across the glass.

'No, thank you,' he said. 'I don't drink wine when I'm driving.' The waiter
looked at him strangely - and walked away. He didn't say, 'Why did you try the wine when you didn't want it, you stupid man!'

Mr. Bean took the knife from the table and started to play with it. He
pretended to be a bad man. He pretended to push the knife into somebody. But he didn't really want to kill anybody, of course. It was a game.
The woman at the next table looked at him angrily, and Mr. Bean quickly
moved the knife. Next, he hit the glasses and plate on his table with it.

Ping, ping,ping they went! And after a minute, he played the song 'Happy Birthday' on the glasses. He smiled and thought, 'I'm very clever!'
But the woman at the next table didn't think, 'That's clever!' or 'Oh yes,
that's funny!' She thought, 'That man's really stupid!' And she looked hard at Mr. Bean.

Mr. Bean put the knife down and looked at his napkin.

'It's a very nice napkin,' he thought.

The waiter saw Mr. Bean looking at his napkin. He didn't say anything, but
suddenly —flick! — he opened it for Mr. Bean.

'That's clever,' thought Mr. Bean. 'I'll try that!'

And he began to move his napkin. Flick! Flick! Flick!
Suddenly, the napkin flew out of his hand. It flew across on to the next
table. The woman at the table looked round again. But Mr. Bean pretended not to see her. His face said, 'It's not my napkin!'

A minute later, the waiter arrived with his food. There was a large cover on
the plate and Mr. Bean couldn't see the food. But he gave the waiter the money on the table.

Customers don't usually give a waiter money when he arrives with the food. But the waiter didn't say anything. He took the money and put it in his jacket.

Mr. Bean was happy. 'I'm doing everything right,' he thought.
The waiter took the cover off the plate and walked away. Mr. Bean looked
at the food in front of him. He put his nose near the meat and smelled it. Then he put his ear next to it.

'What's this?' he thought.

He put some of the meat into his mouth. Suddenly, the manager arrived at his table.

'Is everything all right, sir?' he asked. 'Are you happy with everything?'

He smiled and pretended to eat some meat. But the waiter went away before Mr. Bean put it into his mouth.

'What can I do with it?' he thought. 'I can't eat this. Where can I hide it?'

Then he had an idea. Carefully, he put the meat into the mustard pot and put the cover on it.

'Where can I put some now?' he thought. 'I can't eat it, so I've got to hide all
of it. Oh, yes, the flowers!'

He took the flowers out of the vase. But then the manager went past, so Mr.
Bean pretended to smell the flowers.

'Mmm, very nice!' he said.

The manager smiled and walked away.
Quickly, Mr. Bean put some meat into the vase and pushed the flowers in
on top of it. He looked round the table.

'Where next?' he thought. 'Yes! The bread!'

He took his knife and cut the bread roll. Then he quickly ate the middle of
it. Now he could push some meat inside the roll. He did this, then he put the roll down. He looked at the meat on his plate.

'There's a lot of it,' he thought. 'Where can I hide it now?'

He looked at the small plate on the table. Perhaps he could hide some meat
under the plate. He looked round.

'Nobody's watching me,' he thought.

So he took more meat from the big plate in front of him, and put it under the small plate. Then he pushed down hard with his hand.

The waiter walked past his table again. Mr. Bean smiled at him and put his
arm on the plate. After the waiter went away, he pushed down on the small plate again.

'That's better,' he thought. 'Now you can't see the meat. Good. But there's
more meat. Where can I hide it?'

He looked round the table.

'The sugar pot!' he thought. 'But it's got sugar in it. What can I do?'

He thought quickly, then he put some sugar into a wine glass. Next, he put
some of the meat into the sugar pot. Then he put the sugar from the wine glass on top of it.

'Good!' he thought. 'Nobody can see it in there.'

Suddenly, Mr. Bean could hear music.

'Where's that coming from?' he thought.

He looked round — and saw a man with a violin. After a minute or two, the
man came across to Mr. Bean's table and played for him.
Mr. Bean smiled.

'This is nice,' he thought.

Then the man saw Mr. Bean's birthday card, and the music changed. The man started to play 'Happy Birthday.’

The people at the other tables looked round when they heard the song.

'Who's having a birthday?' they thought. Then they saw Mr. Bean and smiled at him. Mr. Bean smiled back at them.
He pretended to eat some of the meat, but he didn't put it into his mouth.
The man with the violin walked round Mr. Bean's table and watched him. He played his violin and waited for Mr. Bean to eat the meat. And he waited ... and waited ... and waited ...

‘I’ll have to eat some,' thought Mr. Bean. 'He'll only go away when I eat it.'

So he put the meat into his mouth.
And the man with the violin turned away to the next table.
The meat was in Mr. Bean's mouth, but he didn't want to eat it. He wanted
to put it somewhere. But where? He looked at the man with the violin. He moved quickly. He pulled open the back of the man's trousers and opened his mouth. The meat fell inside the trousers!

He smiled. 'That was clever,' he thought.

The man with the violin moved round the next table. He played a song to
the man and the woman. The music was very beautiful. They listened and drank their wine. They watched the man with the violin, so their eyes weren't on Mr. Bean. Nobody's eyes were on Mr. Bean. He saw this, and he had an idea.

Mr. Bean quickly took the woman's bag from the floor. He opened it and
pushed some meat inside it. Then he put the bag on the floor again.
But when he did this, he accidentally put his foot out.

The waiter walked past with some plates of food — and he fell over Mr.
Bean's foot! The plates fell on to Mr. Bean's table, and on to the floor. There was a loud CRASH!, and the people at the other tables looked up quickly.

'What happened?' they said. Then they saw the waiter on the floor. 'Oh,
dear!' they said.

Now Mr. Bean had another idea. Here was the answer to his problem!
He moved very quickly. He pushed the meat from his plate on to the table
with the other food. Then he pretended to be very angry. 'Look, you stupid man!' he said to the waiter. 'Oh, look at this!'

The waiter got up from the floor.

'I'm sorry, sir,' he said. 'I'm really very sorry.'

The manager arrived at the table.

'I'm very sorry, too, sir,' he said. 'Oh, the food—!'

'Yes, it's everywhere!' said Mr. Bean. 'Look! It's in the mustard pot. It's in
the bread roll. It's in the vase of flowers.' He took the woman's bag from the floor.

'And it's in here!' He pulled open the back of the violin player's trousers. 'And here!’

The waiter couldn't understand it.

'Go back to the kitchen,' the manager told him, and the waiter went away.

Then the manager turned to Mr. Bean. 'Please, sir,' he said. 'Come with me.'

'What?' said Mr. Bean. 'Oh, yes, all right.'

The manager took Mr. Bean to a clean table.

'Sit here, sir,' he said.

Mr. Bean sat down.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

The manager opened Mr. Bean's napkin. Then he got the birthday card from the other table. He put it on Mr. Bean's clean table.

'Thank you,' said Mr. Bean.

The man with the violin came across and played 'Happy Birthday' to him
again. Mr. Bean smiled. Now everything was all right.

'Now I can start again,' he thought. 'And this time I'll do everything right.'

The waiter arrived at Mr. Bean's table. He put a plate in front of Mr. Bean.
The manager smiled and took off the cover.
Mr. Bean looked down.
And he stopped smiling.
There, in front of him, was a very large plate — of steak tartare!

The Launderette

A lot of Mr. Bean's clothes were dirty.

'I'll go to the launderette this morning,' he thought. 'I'll take the car.'

He put his dirty clothes into a very large black bag, and took the bag out to
his car. He put it inside. Then he got in and drove to the launderette.
The launderette wasn't very busy that morning. Before Mr. Bean arrived,
there were only two women there. The younger woman was with the launderette manager.

'I've got to wash a lot of clothes,' the young woman said to the manager. 'I'll
want a big washing machine.'

'This is one of our bigger machines,' said the manager. 'Use this.'

At that minute, Mr. Bean arrived. He had the black bag on his back, and he
couldn't get it through the launderette door.

'Oh!' he said.

He pulled and he pushed. He pushed and he pulled. In the end, he got the
bag inside. He took it across to one of the washing machines.

'Money,' he thought. 'I want two one-pound coins for the washing machine.'
He took two one-pound coins out of his jacket and put them on the top of
the machine.

But then Mr. Bean saw a note above the washing machine: Machines now
cost £3.

'Oh, no!' thought Mr. Bean. 'Have I got another one-pound coin?'

He looked in his jacket and his trousers, but he could only find a five-pence
coin. He put this on top of the washing machine.

Then Mr. Bean remembered something. He did have another one-pound
coin, but...

He looked round.
The young woman was next to the big washing machine.
Mr. Bean saw her putting some clothes into it. The launderette manager was busy in his little office.

'Nobody's watching me,' thought Mr. Bean. 'Good.'He opened the front of his trousers. Then he started to pull out some string.

The young woman turned suddenly and saw Mr. Bean pulling the string out
of his trousers.

'What is that man doing?' she thought.

Mr. Bean saw her looking and turned away quickly.

But now the older woman looked at him. Her eyes opened wide. 'That's a
strange man,' the woman thought. 'He's got string inside his trousers!'
On the end of the string was some paper, and inside the paper was a one pound coin. Mr. Bean smiled. He took the coin out of the paper and put it on the top of the washing machine. Then he put the five-pence coin back into his jacket.

Next, he opened the washing machine.
A man came into the launderette with a bag of dirty clothes under his arm.
He was young and strong. When he saw Mr. Bean, he smiled. But it wasn't a nice smile. He didn't say 'Hello' or 'Good morning'. He pushed Mr. Bean away from the washing machine.

'What-!' began Mr. Bean.

Then the young man pushed Mr. Bean's one-pound coins on to the next
machine.

Mr. Bean was angry. He turned round to speak angrily — but then he saw
the young man taking a white karate suit out of his bag.

The young man pushed his white karate suit into the washing machine.
Then he put some money into the machine and sat down on a chair. He took a magazine out of his bag and began to read.

Mr. Bean started to put his clothes into his washing machine. There were
some pairs of underpants.

'Monday,' he said, and he put one pair into the machine. 'Tuesday' He put
the next pair into the machine. 'Thursday. Friday. Saturday.' Three pairs went into the machine.

Mr. Bean stopped. 'Wednesday!' he thought. 'Where are Wednesday's underpants? Oh, it's Wednesday today, and I'm wearing them!'
What could he do? He had to wash them, so he had to take them off. He
looked round.

'Where can I go?' he thought.

There was a partition near the washing machines.

'I'll go behind that,' he thought.

He started to walk to the partition, but the young man put his legs across the floor. He wanted to make Mr. Bean angry. But Mr. Bean remembered the karate suit. The man could fight! He walked round the young man's legs and said nothing.

He went behind the partition and carefully took off his brown trousers.
The young woman put some of her clothes into one of the very big washing
machines. The other clothes were on the top of a smaller machine near the
partition.

She didn't watch her clothes very carefully. She didn't see Mr. Bean put a
hand round the partition. And she didn't see him put his brown trousers down with her clothes.

Mr. Bean took off his underpants — Wednesday's underpants. Then he put
his hand round the partition. He took something — but it wasn't his brown
trousers.

It was a long brown skirt. Mr. Bean put on the skirt and came out from behind the partition. He walked back to his washing machine.

The young woman took the brown trousers from the top of the smaller
washing machine. She didn't look at them. She put them into the big machine.

Next, she shut the door of the machine and took a magazine. Then she sat down on a chair near the dryers and started to read. She had her back to Mr. Bean, so she didn't see him wearing her skirt.

Mr. Bean put his Wednesday underpants into his washing machine. Then he closed the door and put in his three one-pound coins. He sat down on a chair — and saw the skirt!

'Oh, no!' he thought. 'What's this? A skirt? Where are my trousers?'

The young man walked past and Mr. Bean tried to hide the skirt with his
hands.

'I don't want him to see me in this skirt,' he thought. 'What will he think?'
The young man went across to a machine on the wall and bought a cup of
conditioner.

Mr. Bean got up and went back to the partition. He looked at the washing
machine next to it and remembered the young woman's clothes.

'She put my trousers in the big washing machine with her things!' he
thought.

He went across to the big washing machine and tried to open it. But he
couldn't do it.

'I'll have to wait,' he thought, and he walked back to his chair.

The young man put his cup of conditioner on the top of his washing
machine. Then he looked at Mr. Bean — and saw the skirt. He started to laugh.

Mr. Bean looked away quickly. He got his black bag - and a pair of
underpants fell out of it.

'Oh! Sunday's underpants!' he said.

He tried to stop his washing machine and open the door. But the machine
didn't stop.

'What can I do?' he thought. He looked down at the skirt. 'I know! I'll wear
Sunday's underpants under this skirt! That's a good idea.'

He looked round, then went across to the conditioner machine, away from
the other people. Carefully, he started to put on Sunday's underpants. He put his feet into them and — suddenly, he couldn't pull them up. He couldn't move them.

There was a strange foot on them!
It was the young man's foot.
Mr. Bean turned round and saw the young man laughing at him. Mr. Bean
wanted to shout, 'Go away, you stupid man!' but he was too afraid.

After a minute, the young man laughed again and went back to his chair. Mr. Bean quickly pulled up Sunday's underpants. He was angry.

'I don't like people laughing at me,' he thought, and he looked at the young
man. 'What can I do to him? I can't fight him. He's too strong.'

Then he had an idea.
There was a coffee machine next to the machine for conditioner. Mr. Bean
went across to it and got a cup of black coffee. He smiled and walked back to his washing machine with the coffee.

The young man's eyes were on his magazine. He didn't look at Mr. Bean or
the washing machine.

'Now!' thought Mr. Bean

And he quickly changed the young man's cup of conditioner for his cup of
black coffee. Then he carried the cup of conditioner to his chair and sat down.

He smiled. 'That will teach him a lesson,' he thought.
After a minute, the young man stood up and went to his machine. He had to
put the conditioner into it now. He stood next to the machine and laughed at Mr. Bean's skirt. So he didn't look at the cup when he put the 'conditioner' into the top of his washing machine.

But, of course, it wasn't conditioner. It was black coffee.
Mr. Bean tried not to laugh.

The young man sat down in his chair again and looked across at his washing machine. There was a window in the door, and the young man could see his white karate suit going round and round in the water. But the suit wasn't white now. It was brown!

'What!?' he shouted.

He jumped up. He ran across to the cup and looked inside it. Then he put it
to his nose and smelled it.

'Coffee!' he shouted. Then he looked across at Mr. Bean. 'Did you ... ?'

Mr. Bean didn't answer, but his face said, 'Who, me?' He pretended to drink
his cup of 'coffee'. But it wasn't coffee, it was conditioner.

The young man went to find the launderette manager. Mr. Bean stopped
drinking and said, 'Aaaagh!'The young man showed the brown kагаtе suit to the launderette manager.

'What's wrong, sir?' said the manager.

'This karate suit was white when I came in here,' said the young man. 'Now
look at it!'

'What did you do to it?' said the manager.

'Me? I didn't do anything to it,' said the young man, angrily. He pulled the
manager across to his washing machine. 'This is your machine. Is that right?'

'Y—yes,' said the manager.

The young man showed him the karate suit again.

'This cost me two hundred pounds!' he said. 'What are you going to do about it?'

'Er – will you come to my office please, sir?' said the manager. 'We can talk
about it there.'

Mr. Bean sat opposite a large dryer. His underpants and other things were in the machine. They were clean now, and nearly dry.

Mr. Bean waited.
After a minute, the dryer stopped. He got up and opened the door. Then he
started to take out his clothes.

A minute or two later, the young woman came to the next dryer and started
to take out her clothes. They were dry, too.

'Perhaps my trousers are in there!' thought Mr. Bean.

The young woman took some clothes out of the machine and put them into
a bag. Then she went back to the big washing machine for her other clothes.

Mr. Bean moved quickly. He started to look through her clothes for his
trousers, but he couldn't find them.

'Where are they?' he thought. 'They're here somewhere. Wait a minute!
Perhaps she left them in the dryer.'

So he looked inside it. First, he put his head into the machine.

'I can't see anything,' he thought. 'It's too dark.'

Next, he climbed into the machine. The young woman was busy at the big washing machine. She didn't see Mr. Bean climb into the dryer. Then she took something out of the big washing machine. Her eyes opened wide.
'What's this?' she thought. 'A pair of trousers. I haven't got any brown
trousers.'

She threw them on to one of the other washing machines, then she took her
clothes across to the dryer.

Mr. Bean was inside the dryer.

'Where are my trousers?' he thought.

Suddenly, the woman's washing began to fly into the machine — a skirt, a
dress and some shirts.

'What-?' began Mr. Bean.

Then the dryer door shut with a BANG!

'Oh, no!' thought Mr. Bean. He turned and climbed back to the door. 'Help!'
he shouted through the window in the door. 'There's somebody in here!'

But the woman couldn't hear him. She took a pound coin and put it into the
dryer.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

The woman stood in front of the prison. The prison was a big, dirty building in the biggest town of a hot country. The woman was very hot, and she did not like the noise from all the cars in the road. She was an Englishwoman and she did not like hot countries or a lot of noise. She was tall, about fifty years old, with blue eyes and a long face. Her face was red, and she looked tired and angry.

She knocked at the door of the prison. For a long time nothing happened. Then a little window opened in the door, and a man looked out at her.

“Yes? What do you want?”“I want to see my daughter, It’s very important.”“Name?”“Anna Harland.”“Is that your name or your daughter’s name?”“It’s my name. My daughter’s name is Sarah Harland.”“You can’t visit her today. Come back on Wednesday.”“No. I came from England to see her today. It’s very important. She’s going to court tomorrow. Please take me to her…now!”“Wait a minute.”

The little window closed, but the door did not open. The woman waited in front of the door for a long time. A lot of people in the road looked at her. One or two young men laughed, but she did not move. She stood there in the hot road in front of the prison door and waited.

After twenty minutes the door opened. “Come with me,” the man said. The woman went in with him. It was very dark in h prison, and at first she could not see very well. She walked for a long time, past hundreds of doors. Then the man opened one of them.

“In here,” he said. “You can have ten minutes.”

Anna Harland walked into the room and the man went in after her. He closed the door behind him. There was a table in the room and two chairs. On one of the chairs sat her daughter, Sarah. She was a tall girl, about nineteen years old with big, blue eyes.

“Mother,” she said. “I’m very happy to see you.” And she got up and began to run across the room to her mother.

“Sarah,” Anna said, and put out her arms. But the man moved quickly and stood between them.

“No,” he said to Anna. “I’m sorry. I know you’re her mother. You can talk but that’s all. Please sit down at the table. I am here to watch you.”

The mother and daughter sat down at the table. Anna’s hands were near Sarah’s on the table. She looked carefully at her daughter. Sarah’s dress and face were dirty. “She’s tired and unhappy,” Anna thought.

“Sarah, what happened?” she said. “We have ten minutes to talk. No more. Tell me, please, quickly. I want to help you.”

“Why did the police arrest you? When did they bring you to this prison?”

“Last week, I think. Yes, last week. At the airport, when we arrived…The police stopped us and looked in our bags. Then…”

Sarah looked down at the table. “She’s crying,” Anna thought. “She’s very unhappy.”

“They …they said there were drugs in my bag. Then they took me into a room and told me to take my dress off. They looked for more drugs but they found nothing. Then…then they brought me here.”

“I see. Where were the drugs, then? Where did they find them?”

“Oh. They didn’t tell you?” Sarah stopped crying. She looked up, and there was a smile on her face. But it was not a happy smile. “The drugs were in a tube of toothpaste. A toothpaste tube with drugs in it…heroin…not toothpaste.”

“And you didn’t know about it?”

“No, mother, of course not. Do you think I clean my teeth with heroin?”

Anna Harland smiled. It was difficult to smile because she was afraid. But she smiled because she wanted to help her daughter.

“I know you don’t clean your teeth with heroin. You have very good teeth, Sarah. But…what about Stephen? Did he know about the heroin? Did he put it in the toothpaste tube?”

“Stephen? No…why do you ask about Stephen, mother?”

“Well, is he in prison, too? You said ‘us’ and ‘our bags.’ Did the police arrest him too?”

“Oh…no,” Sarah’s face was unhappy. “No. I wasn’t with Stephen, mother. You see, Stephen and I…well, we aren’t friends now. I left him about two months ago…and then I met Hassan.”

“Hassan?”

“Yes. I was with Hassan at the airport. Stephen was on the plane, too—I don’t know why—but he wasn’t with me. It’s Hassan—he was with me. Hassan’s important to me now, not Stephen.”

Anna looked at her daughter. “I see. And did the police arrest Hassan, too? Is he in prison?”

“Yes he is. They arrested him but I can’t see him. I asked them. I wanted to see him but they said ‘no.’ Mother, I’m sure Hassan didn’t know about the heroin. He’s a good man…he didn’t know, I’m sure”

“Then why was the heroin in your bag, Sara?”

“I don’t know, mother. I don’t know.”

The man looked at the clock. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Harland,” he said. “But that’s ten minutes. It’s time to go.”

“Yes, mother,” Sarah said. “Thank you. The police are bringing Hassan to court tomorrow, too. I think. You can see him there. He’s a good man, mother, and…I’m sure he didn’t know about the drugs.”

“Perhaps,” Anna said. She walked slowly to the door, and then stood by the door and looked at her daughter again. “Sarah…you are telling me the truth, aren’t you?”

Sarah began to cry again. “Yes, mother, of course I am. I always tell you the truth, you know that.”

Anna smiled. “Yes, Sarah,” she said quietly. “Yes, I believe you.” She went through the door and the man went out after her.

Sarah sat quietly at the table in the room and looked at her hands. “Yes,” she thought. “I told the truth, mother. I always tell you the truth. But I didn’t tell you everything.” She put her head in her hands.

Monday, October 19, 2009

It was cold and dark out in the road and the rain did not stop for a minute. But in the middle of the living room of number 12 Castle Road it was nice and warm. Old Mr. White and his son, Herbert, played chess and Mrs. White sat and watched them. The old woman was happy because her husband and her son were food friends and liked to be together. “Herbert’s a good son,” she thought. “We waited a long time for him and I was nearly forty when he was born, but we are happy family.” And old Mrs. White smiled.

It was true. Herbert was young and laughed a lot, but his mother and his father laughed with him. They didn’t have much but they were a very happy little family.

The two men did not talk because they played carefully. The room was quiet, but the noise of the rain was worse now and they could hear it on the windows. Suddenly old Mr. White looked up. “Listen to the rain,” he said.

“Yes, it’s a bad night,” Herbert answered (an serd). “It’s not a good night to be out, but is your friend, Tom Morris, coming tonight?”

“Let’s have some whiskey,” old Mr. White said. “You need something to warm you on a cold night.” He got out a bottle of whiskey and the two old friends began to drink and talk. The little family listened with interest to this visitor from far away and he told them many strange stories.

Chapter Two
After some time Mr. Morris stopped talking and Mr. White said to his wife and son, “Tom was a soldier in India for twenty-one years. India is a wonderful country.”

“Yes,” Herbert said. “I’d like to go there.”

“Oh, Herbert,” his mother cried. She was afraid because she did not want to lose her son.

“I wanted to go to India, too,” her husband said, “but…”

“It’s better for you here,” the soldier said quickly.

“But you saw a lot of strange and wonderful things in India. I want to see them too one day,” Mr. White said.

The soldier put down his whiskey. “No,” he cried. “Stay here!”

Old Mr. White did not stop. “But your stories were interesting,” he said to Tom Morris. “What did you begin to say about a monkey’s paw?”

“Nothing,” Morris answered quickly. “Well…nothing important.”

“A monkey’s paw?” Mrs. White said.

“Come on, Mr. Morris. Tell us about it,” Herbert said.

Mr. Morris took his whiskey in his hand but suddenly put it down again. Slowly he put his hand into the pocket of his coat and the White family watched him.

“What is it? What is it?” Mrs. White cried.

Morris said nothing. He took his hand out of his pocket. The White family watched carefully and in the soldier’s and they saw something little and dirty.

Mrs. White moved back, afraid, but her son, Herbert, took it and looked at it carefully.

“A monkey’s paw,” Herbert said and he laughed. “Why do you carry a monkey’s paw in your pocket, Mr. Morris?” he asked the old soldier.

“Well, you see,” Morris said, “this monkey’s paw is magic.”

Herbert laughed again, but the soldier said, “Don’t laugh, boy. Remember, you’re young. I’m old now and in India I saw many strange things.” He stopped talking for a minute and then said, “This monkey’s paw can do strange and wonderful things. An old Indian gave the paw to one of my friends. My friend was a soldier, too. This paw is magic because it can give three wishes to three people.”

“Wonderful,” Herbert said.

“But these three wishes don’t bring happiness,” the soldier said. “The old Indian wanted to teach us something: it’s never good to want to change things.”

“Well, did your friend have three wishes?” Herbert asked the old soldier.

“Yes,” Morris answered quietly. “And his third and last wish was to die.”

Mr. and Mrs. White listened to the story and they felt afraid, but Herbert asked, “And did he die?”

“Yes, he did,” Morris said. “He had no family so his things came to me when he died. The monkey’s paw was with the things, but he told me about it before he died,” Tom Morris finished quietly.

“What were his first tow wishes, then?” Herbert asked. “What did he ask for?”

I don’t know. He didn’t want to tell me,” the soldier answered.

For a minute or two everybody was quiet, but then Herbert said, “And you, Mr. Morris, did you have three wishes?”

Friday, October 2, 2009

Hello, my name is John. Hola, me llamo John.)I am John. (Soy Juan.)I am a teacher. (Soy profesor.)We are teachers. (Somos profesores.)You are students. (Sois alumnos.)You are a student. (Eres/es estudiante.)Where are you from? (¿De dónde eres?) I am from Seattle in the United States of America. (Soy de Seattle en los Estados Unidos de América.)I am American. (Soy americano.)You are from Spain. (eres/sois de España.)We are Spanish.What is your name? (¿Cómo te llamas?)What is his name? (¿Cómo se llama?)

To BeI am (yo soy, estoy) You are (tú eres, estás) He/ she/ it (Él, ella, ello es /está) We are (nosotros/as somos/estamos) You are (vosotros/as sóis/estáis) They are (ellos/as son /están).

I have two brothers. (Tengo dos hermanos)You have a red car. (Tienes un coche rojo.) He has five apples. (Él tiene 5 manzanas.)We have many books. We have a lot of books. (Tenemos muchos libros.)We have many friends. (Tenemos muchos amigos)I have to go to work now. (Ahora tengo que ir al trabajo.)

To HaveI have (yo tengo) You have (tú tienes) He has (él tiene) She has (ella tiene) It has (ello tiene) We have (nosotros/as tenemos) You have (vosotros/as tenéis) They have (ellos/as tienen)

I do my homework every day at six o’clock. (Hago mis tareas todos los días a las seis.) To DoI do (yo hago) You do (tú haces) He does (él hace) She does (ella hace) It does (ello hace) We do (Nosotros/as hacemos) You do (Vosotros/as hacéis) They do ( ellos/as hacen)

Monday, September 28, 2009

"Either" and "neither" are both singular adjectives meaning "one or the other of two." "Neither" of course means "not the first one and not the second one."In formal writing, we usually use a singular verb because "either" and "neither" signal that one of the following nouns is the subject, but not both:Either Bill or Bob is going to the conference. (One or the other is going, but not both.)

Notice that we say "either...or" and "neither...nor." In informal English, most people would say "Neither Joan OR Jane LIKE sushi." That's all right in conversation, but in formal documents you should prefer the formal usage.Of course we have a confusing exception to this rule. You can use a plural verb if you have a plural noun next to the verb:

Either Joan or the Kennedys are going to the conference.

But put the singular noun closer to the verb, and it goes back to singular!

Either the Kennedys or Joan is going to the conference.And it's the same with "neither":

Monday, September 14, 2009

Martha is not at the office. She went home. She is in the garden. She works in the garden every day.

I am studying Spanish and Arabic. Arabic is very hard. It is a hard language to learn.

I see a dog across the street. The dog is named Spot. Do you have a dog? Dogs are good pets. The dogs on my street bark at night. A dog was barking. Dogs bark, cats meow, birds chirp, pigs oink, tigers growl, lions roar, wolves howl, and cows moo.

I went to the café and had a coffee. The coffee at the café near my house is very good. People drink a lot of coffee in Spain. I drink coffee every day. I drink a cup of coffee every day.

I looked at the clock in the church tower and I knew that it would be difficult to arrive at the train station for the train at 10:00. I like trains. I hate cars. I love bikes. It was a beautiful day so I rode my bike instead of taking the train. The road was empty. There were no cars. There was a boy on a blue bicycle in front of me. I went past him at the corner of the next street. I have a white bike. I have a water bottle for my bike. The water bottle is white. I have a red shirt. The shirt is new. A bus crossed the street in front of me. The bus was full of people. The people on the bus were reading. People like to read on the bus.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

This is part of a series of beginner books with audio from the Oxford Bookworm series. They can be purchased here.

1) Mystery Girl

It all began on a beautiful spring morning in a village called Whistler in Canada—a pretty little village in the mountains of British Columbia.

There was a café in the village, with tables outside, and at one of these tables sat a young man. He finished his breakfast, drank his coffee, and looked up into the blue sky, and felt the warm sun on his face. Nick Lortz was a happy man.

The waiter came up to his table, “More coffee?” he asked.
“Yeah, great,” said Nick. He gave the waiter his coffee cup.

The waiter looked at the camera on the table. “On vacation?” he said. “Where are you from.?”
“San Francisco,” Nick said. He laughed. “But I’m not on vacation—I’m working. I’m a travel writer and I’m doing a book on the mountains in North America. I’ve got some great pictures of your mountain.

The two men looked up at Whistler Mountain behind the village. It looked very beautiful in the morning.
“Do you travel a lot, then?” asked the waiter.
“All the time,” Nick said. “I write books and I write for travel magazines. I write about everything: different countries, towns, villages, rivers, mountains, people…”

The waiter looked over Nick’s head. “There’s a girl across the street,” he said. “Do you know her?”

Nick turned his head and looked. “No, I don’t.”
“Well, she knows you, I think.” The waiter said. “She’s watching you very carefully.” He gave Nick a smile. Have a nice day.” He went away, back into the café.
Nick looked at the girl across the street. She was about twenty-five and she was very pretty. “She is watching me,” Nick thought. Then the girl turned and looked in one of the shop windows. After a second or two she looked back at Nick again.

Suddenly, the girl smiled. Then she walked across the street, came up to Nick’s table, and sat down. She put her bag down on the table. The bag was half-open.

“Hi. I’m Jan,” she said. “Do you remember me? We met at a party in Toronto.”

“Hi, Jan,” said Nick. He smiled. “I’m Nick. But we didn’t meet at a party in Toronto. I don’t go to parties very often, and never in Toronto.”

“Oh,” the girl said. But she didn’t get up or move away.
“Have some coffee,” Nick said. The story about the party in Toronto wasn’t true, but it was a beautiful morning and she was a pretty girl. “Maybe it was a party in Montréal or New York.”

The girl laughed. “OK, maybe it was. And yes, I’d love some coffee.”
When she had her coffee Nick asked, “What are you doing in Whistler? Or do you live here?”
“Oh no,” she said. “I’m just, er, just travelling through. And what are you doing here?”
“I’m a travel writer,” said Nick, “and I’m writing a book about famous mountains.”
“That’s interesting,” she said. But her face was worried, not interested, and she looked across the road again.

A man with very short, white hair walked across the road. He was about sixty years old, and he was tall and thin. The girl watched him.

“Are you waiting for someone?” asked Nick.
“No,” she said quickly. The she asked, “Where are you going next, Nick?”
“To Vancouver, for three or four days,” he said.
“When are you going?” she asked
“Later this morning,” he said. There was a letter in the top of the girl’s half-open bag. Nick could see some of the writing, and he read it because he saw the word
“Vancouver”…and "we can meet at the Empress Hotel, Victoria, Vancouver Island, on Friday afternoon…"
“So she’s going to Vancouver, too,” Nick thought.

Suddenly the girl said, “Do you like movies?”

“Movies? Yes, I love movies,” he said. “Why?”
“I know a man and he…he loves movies and going to the cinema,” she said slowly. “People call him ‘Mr. Hollywood’.” She smiled at Nick. “Can I call you Mr. Hollywood, Too?”

Nick laughed. “OK,” he said. “And what can I call you?”
She smiled again. “Call me Mystery Girl,” she said.
“That’s a good name for you,” said Nick.

Just then the man with the white hair came into the café. He did not look at Nick or the girl, but he sat at a table near them. He asked the waiter for some breakfast, then he began to read a magazine.

Nick stood up, too. “Nice to…” he began.
But the girl suddenly took his face between her hands, and kissed him on the mouth. “Drive carefully, Mr. Hollywood. Goodbye,” she said, with a big beautiful smile. Then she turned and walked quickly away.
“Now what was that all about?” thought Nick.

The man with the white hair watched Nick and waited. After four or five minutes Nick finished his coffee, took his books and his camera, and left the café. His car was just outside the girl’s hotel, and he walked slowly along the street to it.
The man with the white hair waited a second then quickly followed Nick.

From a window high up in the hotel the girl looked down into the road. She saw Nick and the man with the white hair about fifty yards behind him. Nick got into his car, and the man with the white hair walked quickly to a red car across the street. Five seconds later Nick drove away in his blue car, and the red car began to follow him.
When the girl saw this she smiled, then went to put things in her travel bag.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

I am Sam
Sam I am
That Sam-I-am!
That Sam-I-am!
I do not like that Sam-I-am!
Do you like
green eggs and ham?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
I do not like
green eggs and ham.
Would you like them
here or there?
I would not like them
here or there.
I would not like them anywhere.
I do not like
green eggs and ham.
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
Would you like them in a house?
Would you like them with a mouse?
I do not like them
in a house.
I do not like them
with a mouse.
I do not like them
here or there.
I do not like them
anywhere.
I do not like
green eggs and ham.
I do not like them,
Sam-I-am.
Would you eat them
in a box?
Would you eat them
with a fox?
Not in a box.
Not with a fox.
Not in a house.
Not with a mouse.
I would not eat them
here or there.
I would not eat them anywhere.
I would not eat green eggs and ham.
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

He has all of the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire.(Él tiene todas las virtudes que no me gustan y ninguno de los vicios que admiro)

Democracy is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried.(La democracia es la peor forma del gobierno, excepto todas las otras formas que tratamos de vez en cuando)

When I am abroad, I always make it a rule never to criticize or attack the government of my own country. I make up for lost time when I come home.(Cuando viajo nunca critico mi gobierno de mi país. Cuando vuelvo repongo el tiempo perdido.)

1. She is Mary. She is my mother (Ella es Mary, es mi mamá)2. He is John. He is my father (El es John, es mi papá)3. They are Robert and James. They are my cousins (Ellos son Robert y James, son mis primos)4. I am Chris and She is Anne. We are husband and wife (Yo soy Chris y ella es Anne, somos esposos)5. She is my aunt (Ella es mi tia)

Friday, August 21, 2009

I love summer. I like the heat and the sun. I ride my bike to the beach almost every day. I am lucky because Valencia has a great bike path to the beaches. I go from Ruzafa to the beaches of El Saler south of the city. It is a beautiful bike path that goes past sand dunes and forests of pine trees, agave, and palms. Because it is so hot there are not many people on bicycles in the afternoon. I don’t mind the heat but I have to wear strong sunscreen (spf 50). I have a secret beach that very few people know about. It takes one hour to get there on my bike but it is worth it. There are almost never any other people at this beach and the water is very clean. There is also a shower at my secret beach. I park my bike in the sand and I swim in the sea. I have always lived near the sea or the ocean. I love to swim and dive.

Late in the afternoon I ride back home. It isn’t so hot at this time of day and there are long shadows along the beach. It is nice to be out of the sun and into the shade. The bike path is very flat and there is only one hill to climb: a bridge that goes over the railroad tracks. On the way home I ride past the Arts and Sciences City and through the Turia Park. There are always lots of people in the park riding bikes, roller skating, and walking their dogs. I think Turia Park is the best thing about Valencia.

Before I go home I stop at a café near my apartment and I have a cold beer. Beer tastes better in the summer than any other time of the year, especially after a long bike ride. When I get back to my apartment I put my bicycle away and then I take a cold shower.

During the summer we eat different kinds of food. I make cold dishes like gazpacho and papas aliñás. I think that Spain has the best food for the hot days of summer.